


Against My Better Judgement

by AzraelsQuill



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/M, I can't believe the first ship fic I'm posting is Het, i blame Ryuu, i'm not even in this fandom, this is all because of Ryuu, this is for a friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9446315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzraelsQuill/pseuds/AzraelsQuill
Summary: Katarina gets drunk and decides to sneak into the Demacian camp at Kalamanda to investigate a theory. Garen captures her, but instead of alerting his fellow troops he ties her up in his tent and tries to interrogate her. Garen wants to be sctrictly business, but he keeps getting distracted by his drunk, giggly rival's innuendos. Who's really asking the questions here?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Done for Ryuu, the actual League trash, in like 6 hours. (Ryuu keeps forcing me to write when I have no clue what to do with myself, thx pal.)
> 
> Prompt: League of Legends, Katarina x Garen, one of them captures & interrogates the other

Katarina froze still in a crouch and held her breath, as a young Demacian guard nearby swiveled her neck and gripped her sword. The guard listened for a good 20 seconds, then turned back to resting position.

Silently, Katarina let herself hit the ground. She wanted to groan. What a foolish plan. Drinking in a diplomatic mission station and attempting to sneak into an enemy camp. Worse, she had partaken far more drinks than was wise. Her movements were unsteady and her night vision blurred.

She knew better than to sneak into a Demacian camp in foreign territory without a target, but curiosity drove her. The Kalamanda earthquake was too weak to have collapsed an approved Demacian mine shaft. In Katarina's knowledge, this either meant that the inspection was fraudulent...or someone else had instigated the collapse.

Either way, it seemed likely that Demacia had a spy in its midst. And how perfect would it be if Katarina could figure out whom? Noxus would delight in such delicate information, and a spy could prove useful to Noxian manipulations as well.

But coming here drunk was not the right plan. She had to get out before she was noticed.

 

* * *

 

Garen supposed that he was dreaming, or that those berries at dinner were poisonous. Either of those options seemed more plausible than what his eyes beheld. Mere feet from his tent, Garen saw the Sinister Blade herself, Katarina of Noxus, crouched behind a grain silo.

When he realized he was not seeing things, Garen knew he needed to act now. He cursed the fact that he had removed most of his armor so early, but he made do with the steel shin guards he retained. Garen sprang forward and struck Katarina with a knee, knocking her unconscious. He waved off concern from the nearby guard, announcing himself and telling her it was a moment of clumsiness. She chastised him and returned to her watch.

Garen lifted the unconscious assassin into his tent and restrained her in his writing chair. He swept her for weapons and noted, astonished, that she stank of liquor. He stowed her blades and took a moment to drink something to center himself, then began pacing.

Logically, Garen knew that he ought to have alerted more guards and had her immediately tried as an enemy spy. But somehow, he had not wanted to. The potential loss of such a potent rival was something that made him hesitate.

Rumors had plagued Demacia about Garen and his Noxian rival since their first encounter. Some even whispered that the Sinister Blade had seduced him. They were all mistaken, Garen maintained. Not all Demacians had the true warrior spirit inside them. How could they comprehend what Garen felt when he encountered Katarina on the battlefield? The rush of exhilaration when he saw flaming hair flying under bloodstained battle helmet, the flurry of blades like a cyclone of death approaching...those were the battles Garen lived for. The ones where he felt alive, electric, overwhelmed by the intoxication of a powerful adversary.

And thus Garen stared at his captured rival, more vulnerable than he could have ever imagined, in his dominion. He could slay her now and present her head to Demacia; he would go down as an eternal hero.

But it would not sit right with Garen, to capture his enemy like a coward and end her while she slept. At least not before he questioned her about what she was doing in his camp, drunk and careless. He injected her with a healing serum for the head wound and retreated to the opposite wall while he waited for her to regain consciousness.

 

* * *

 

Katarina came to and almost moved before she recalled where she had been before losing consciousness.

She did her best to keep her breathing even and took inventory of her situation. Her clothes still reeked of alcohol but her head felt cleared. There was no lingering pain from the attack to her head. Her limbs were bound firmly but not inescapably. Her blades had been taken and her pockets emptied. All her knives seemed to be missing as well. Which made escape more difficult. Shit.

On the other hand, whomever captured her didn't seem to want her dead immediately. That narrowed it down on who her captor was, and Katarina thought she could use that to her benefit.

 

* * *

 

Across the room, Katarina stirred; Garen jumped up and brought his sword beside him. He addressed her.

"What brings you to a Demacian camp this time of night, Sinister Blade? Come to slay another official?"

Garen heard her inhale for a moment and then...giggle?

"Oh my Cassie, is this a new role play scenario you've come up with? Naughty!" she crowed, giggling again. Garen sputtered, unable to think of a response, but he was saved from the necessity when Katarina looked up and exclaimed in surprise.

"Ooh, you're not Cass- oh my, I'm not where I should be," she slurred. "Garen of Demacia, how lovely it is to see you again."

Scolding his lack of focus with an enemy right in front of him, Garen steeled his expression.

"I cannot say it's any pleasure to see you here, Katarina. I don't take kindly to Noxian snakes creeping through my camp."

"To see me _here_? Would it please you to see me elsewhere?" Katarina asked with a smirk.

"That's not what I-" Garen protested, his cheeks flushing, before changing tack, "Silence. I'm here to ask questions, not answer them. I'll repeat myself: what are you doing here?"

Katarina shrugged, "Oh, I thought I'd give condolences about those poor miners." She sloppily tried to flip her hair out of her eyes. "Even enemies can respect decency at times, can we not?"

Garen snorted. "Noxians would not know decency if it stabbed them in the back, so forgive me if I find that excuse lackluster. Why are you here?"

The redhead tossed her head back and laughed, tilting back and almost toppling the chair, if Garen had not moved over to stall it. Katarina looked up at him from under her eyelashes and fringe and purred, "Why thank you, Garen."

Frowning, Garen retreated back to a safer distance, feeling a strange discomfort in his stomach. His heartbeat was elevated like the moment before battle, although nothing about the assassin's movements had been overtly threatening.

"Well, since you've asked so kindly," Katarina said, "I was a little excessive in partaking of the liquor around the fire tonight. Today is a feast day for Noxus, you see...so," she giggled. "I thought I'd sneak over here and see if I couldn't take a look at Garen of Demacia, and see if he's still so _broad shouldered_ outside of his armor."

Garen flushed, "Do not play games with me, Noxian! I know you didn't come here like a staggering fool because you wanted to—to _admire my visage_."

Katarina snickered, "Oh? But what else can I say Garen? All I wanted to see was if the Might of Demacia was still _mighty_ under all his layers...and you have not disappointed," she winked at him.

Garen scowled in irritation. Partly at Katarina's blatant lies and partly at the way his stomach twisted at the thought of her implications.

He stormed over and knelt so they were face-to-face. "Mock me at your own risk, snake. I could strike you down in an instant!"

Katarina's expression became, if anything, more smug.

"Garen, Garen, why so coy?," Katarina crooned. "I see the way you're flushing, acting like my words don't affect you...like I haven't seen the thrill in your eyes when we lock steel on the battlefield."

Protesting, Garen tried to retort, "I do not look thrilled-"

"Ah ah ah, Garen, you know as well as I how it feels to finally make matches with a worthwhile opponent." Katarina leaned forward, accentuating her cleavage, "After all, those occasions _excite_ me as well."

Garen had to turn to hide his reddened face and took a moment to consider the situation. He had his fiercest rival captured in his tent, drunken, giggly, and  _coming on to him_. Despite their positions, Garen felt like he was on the receiving end of this interrogation. Unacceptable. This went beyond the realms of expectation or belief.

* * *

 

As Garen finally turned his back on her, Katarina took the opportunity to swingher foot back. She retrieved the tiny blade Garen had overlooked, stuck to the inside of her heel.

 

* * *

 

Garen heard Katarina shift and he spun back around, cursing himself for having turned his back on the assassin. Even drunk and restrained, she was a threat. But Katarina sat the same way, hair disheveled and cleavage spilling forth, and Garen remembered why he had turned away in the first place.

"Come now Garen, don't tell me you've never wondered...even if you've lain with others before......but it never quite equals the thrill of the fight, does it?" Katarina sighed, "The rush in your chest, the wind in your hair, the blood on your armor...haven't you ever wondered if laying with someone could feel that exhilarating?"

He felt himself walking toward her, against his better judgement, and he leaned in to murmur in her ear. "You think I would stoop so low? To lie with a snake?"

"Not any old snake," Katarina breathed in his ear, "The snake who you can never defeat." She leaned back and locked eyes with him, then slowly licked her lips.

Silencing the voice of reason in his head for once, Garen listened to the twisting heat in his stomach. He pressed in to meet Katarina's lips with his own.

 

* * *

 

Katarina freed the last of her bounds while Garen was distracted by her tongue invading his mouth. She struck him unawares, in three pressure points that left him unable to move, and kicked his chest so that he crashed to the ground. Knocking his sword away, Katarina retrieved her weapons. She stopped back to lean over Garen.

"My apologies, oh Might of Demacia," she spoke in a mocking tone, not playing drunk any longer, "but this snake will be taking her leave now."

Garen grimaced up at her and groaned "You will pay for this, you treacherous wretch."

"I would expect no less, Garen," she smirked. "But between us, I wasn't lying about your 'visage.' Until next time, Crownguard."

Katarina disappeared, and Garen laid on the floor, still paralyzed. He cursed the absolute foolishness that had overtaken him and the heat still smoldering in his stomach. His enemy was clever as she was brutal. Yet instead of disgusting him with her subterfuge, he felt a tingle of...admiration? Garen groaned. Nothing good could come of this revelation.

 

* * *

 

Katarina slipped out of Garen's tent and led a few guards on a chase before doubling back in the opposite direction. She ran through the night with a clear path home, and thought about the fascinating new information the night had revealed. 

Perhaps this trip wasn't a complete waste of time after all. At the least, she had a very interesting tale to share with her confidantes in the morning...


End file.
